Bananas and Blue Shells
by Aksannyi
Summary: Tony and Ziva get into a friendly game of Mario Kart. Well, it starts out friendly, at least, because we all know that Mario Kart can destroy friendships. AU, oneshot.


**Protip: This is what happens when you ask for fic prompts via WhatsApp and when they ask what kind of requests, you say "just fuck me up." I should have known what I was getting into, lol.**

**So yeah. I'm gonna have fun with this. AU. Obviously. **

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**Bananas and Blue Shells**

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They were already a few beers into their lazy Saturday, the pizza finished long forgotten, the box sitting half open on the floor not ten feet away from where they sat. They'd foregone the usual seating on the sofa for a more intimate interaction with the nearby TV, where small, cartoon avatars raced each other for dominance in the ultimate battle of skill – Mario Kart.

"I do not know _how _you convinced me to play this game," Ziva muttered, tilting her body along with her controller as she navigated a sharp curve with her toon, a princess wearing a yellow gown and driving a ridiculous looking go-kart.

"You're only mad because I'm winning," came the smug response. Ziva turned and glared at Tony, and he realized that it might not be a good idea to gloat around an actual ninja.

Well, an ex-ninja. Though Tony suspected that ninjas were like Marines. No such thing as an ex.

"That is only because I slipped on the banana," she grumbled, adding, "Which you were _so _kind to leave in my path." Tony smirked, remembering the string of profanities – English and a few others – that passed from her lips as she hit the offending fruit peel, then watched as seven drivers passed her, including Tony.

"That wasn't me, sweetcheeks," he teased, and her brow furrowed in confusion.

She didn't answer immediately, and focused on navigating the race course as another one of the computer avatars passed her. She scrunched her face in concentration, again leaning with the controller, as though that would affect the trajectory of the cart on the screen. "Do not lie," she muttered through gritted teeth, silently willing her stupid little car to go faster. Tony smirked at her intensity. Who knew that Ziva would be so competitive at Mario Kart?

Tony passed the finish line, signaling the start of the final lap. "I'm going to win!" he bragged triumphantly, turning to grin at Ziva, who was still grumbling over her misfortune.

"Yes, only because of your stupid banana!" she insisted, glaring. She was too far back to overtake him by the end of the race at this point, and she knew it was just a damn Nintendo game, but she couldn't let him win.

"It was _your _stupid banana, Ziva," he countered, and he sensed her confusion even as his eyes were still glued to the screen at his first place driver. He'd chosen Mario, of course, waggling his eyebrows and doing his best impersonation of the iconic voice – _It's a-me, Mario – _at which Ziva had rolled her eyes.

"You threw that banana on the first round. I saw you do it, because I was behind you and I had to _swerve _to avoid it. No one else hit it, and you came around and smacked into your _own _banana," he explained, trying not to laugh as her expression changed from confusion to irritation.

"That's … that's …" she trailed off, taking a moment, "that's _bullshit!" _she finally exclaimed, angry. Honestly, this damn game was completely rigged!

Tony was too busy laughing at her frustration, which only made Ziva angrier. If she hadn't just told him this morning that she loved him, he might actually be afraid for his life, or at least one of his limbs. He hadn't seen Ziva this annoyed in a long time.

"I am going to kick your ass in the next game," she muttered angrily, determination setting across her features as she rolled her kart through the last of the item boxes that would give her a power-up. She didn't know what any of the power-ups did, but half of the fun was figuring it out as she let them go. She'd gotten the banana, a star, and some mushrooms in previous laps, and used them all with varying success.

Except the stupid banana. She hated the stupid banana.

She was still concentrating on navigating the tricky race track when she hit the button to release her final power-up, and she heard a kind of alarm coming from Tony's side of the screen, where she saw that the item – a blue shell with wings that she'd just released – came to smack Tony's driver up into the air and back down, stunning him and allowing four drivers to pass him.

"DID YOU JUST _BLUE SHELL _ME?" he bellowed, dropping his controller on the ground beside him and looking at her in disbelief.

"I do not know what these things do!" she retorted, her mouth hanging open in surprise.

"That fucking thing," he started, his controller still sitting on the ground and forgotten, "destroys _lives." _

She looked at him in confusion for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. "It is just a game, Tony," she reminded him, though she recognized the irony of that statement, after she'd been sulking over it herself.

Taking her controller from her hands and setting it down on the ground, he leaned over and tackled her to the ground, playfully attacking her, saying, "I'll show you a game," suggestively.

"What does that even _mean_, Tony?" she responded, giggling as he started to nibble at her neck, the game entirely forgotten.

Lifting his head from her neck and staring into her eyes, he winked at her, then leaned down to kiss her, leaning his body against hers as she opened her mouth and wrapped her arms around him. She groaned into his mouth, running her hand up the back of his neck and into his hair, tasting and feeling and savoring. In the background, ridiculous Mario Kart music continued to play on loop, and Ziva couldn't help but laugh, pulling her mouth away from his as she started to crack up.

"What?" he asked, and she stifled another giggle to point to the TV screen.

"_That," _she replied, swallowing down another fit of laughter, "is not a very sexy soundtrack." He leaned his forehead against hers, letting out a small chuckle of his own, then pulled away and stood up, reaching his hand down to pull her up. He flicked off the television, effectively silencing the game, and pulled her back toward him, murmuring, "Now where were we?"

She kissed him once, lightly on the mouth, a small smile painting the corners of her face. "I think," she said, kissing him again, "that you," kiss, "were going," another, at the corner of his mouth this time, "to show me," smooch, "a game," she finally managed to get out, punctuating her sentence with a longer, slower, more languid kiss, one that left her head spinning and both of them panting as they leaned in together, their foreheads touching when they pulled away.

"I was," he responded, squeezing her waist, "and I think you will be _much _more pleased with the outcome," he added, and led her to the bedroom.


End file.
